Spontaneous Rendezvous
by nottellingu
Summary: James and Lily were bound to meet. It was their destiny. A series of oneshots based on the prompts of the cover. Muggle!Jily/Modern!Jily au. Previously titled as 'James and Lily'
1. The Knight in Brown Smock

Hullo. I'm nottellingu and this is my first Jily fic. It's muggle!jily / modern!jily au. If you can see the cover of this story you might see a list of prompts. I found them on pinterest and really liked them. So shout-out to the creator of the prompts! I owe you one. I'll be doing all of these and another set. So let's get to the first one, shall we?

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Prompt #1:I walk into the stock room and you're halfway through a window and seem to be balancing on a stack of boxes. You don't even work here what the HELL do you think you're doing.

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It was a rather slow day at the café. James Potter stood by the cashier's counter, bored out of his mind. There were only a few customers seated at the table as opposed to the usually noisy café.

He observed a group of students sitting together, frantically poring over notes and downing vats of coffee. One of them - the one with strawberry blonde hair – rubbed wearily at his eyes and continued to skim through his books. Another pair seemed to be testing each other with flash cards. Probably finals week, James surmised.

An old couple sat at another table, talking amicably. As the man with salt and pepper hair said something, the woman laughed – a melodious sound. Quite possibly talking of their beautiful kids and reminiscing the good ol' days.

By the window sat a young man who looked to around James's age. He watched the world outside with a contemplative eye. His sandy brown hair was neatly combed on his egg shaped head. Two cups of coffee sat before him which James thought strange.

"Oi James, get a few cups from the back room, will you?" Marlene McKinnon's voice came from behind the coffee machine. "We're almost out."

James sighed and nodded his head. He trudged to the stock room. James opened the door to the dingy stock room. Once his bespectacled eyes adjusted to the dark surroundings, he saw a bum wriggling out of the tiny window. It was a nice bum. He shook his head clear of any _problematic_ thoughts and cleared his throat.

"Excuse me, but what the _hell_ do you think you're doing?"

The person jumped and James heard a dull thunk and a muffled 'Ouch". The person – evidently a woman – slid themselves out of the window and hopped off the boxes upon which she'd been standing.

She rubbed the top of her head. James realised she had a face that matched her bum. She had vibrant red hair and luminous green eyes. Her pretty pink mouth offered him a sheepish smile. The woman looked to be in her early twenties yet she stood like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

"I-er...I was having a bad date," she said. James let out a short, surprised laugh. "So you're first thought was to sneak out through the back window?"

"No actually. I tried choking but he just thumped me on my back." Colour rose to her face and her ears tinged pink.

James laughed harder. The girl winced. She brushed the dust off her black velvet skirt and straightened her green cardigan. She raised her hand and nursed her bumped head.

Once James stopped laughing, he registered the fact that the gorgeous redhead had a considerable bump on her head.

"Would you like an ice pack for that?" James asked.

"Yes, please."

James walked out of the stock room amd grabbed an ice pack from the walk-in freezer. He went back to stock room amd handed it the woman. A round of awkward smiles and fumbling hands ensued. The woman settled herself on the boxes and James leaned on the wall opposite to her.

"James! Get the cups! NOW!" Marlene shouted.

"On my way! Quit nagging, woman!" James yelled back. He reached around the woman for the stack of cups. She was even more striking up close. "Be right back."

He rushed out of the room amd hurled the cups at Marlene.

"Than-"

"Yeah, yeah. If Moody asks, I'm on break," James didn't stop to listen to her response and made his way back to the woman.

"So you're name is James?" she asked.

"Yeah, James Potter."

"Nice to meet you James Potter. I'm Lily Evans," she stretched her hand out. James shook it.

"Out of curiousity, what does your date think you're doing right now?"

"Oh, he thinks I'm attending a business call. Too bad he doesn't know I'm fresh out of uni and unemployed," she smirked.

James grinned,"Nice."

"Hmm... Well thanks for the ice pack and um... sorry for tresspassing." She grabbed her heels and bag from the floor. She slung the bag on her shoulder and slipped her feet into her heels. She gave him the ice pack. "Must get back to Mr. High-and-Mighty."

"Wait, I thought you wanted out."

"Oh, I do." She had a look of longing on her face.

"Then I'll help you."

"You will?" Her face brightened.

"Sure. I can't help myself when I see a damsel in distress. Besides, I've had my fair share of bad dates."

Lily looked relieved.

"Oh thank you,thank you, thank you." She gushed. "I could kiss you right now."

James looked flustered and ruffled his jet black hair. "Hold on, I haven't told you my rescue plan."

She grinned; her eyes lit up.

"We're going to act as if you slipped on some water while attending your call. You hit your head and might have a concussion. So you need to go to the hospital and get it checked. Unfortunately, your date has to be cut short."

"Yup, _unfortunately_ ," she drawled. James grinned appreciatively.

"Shall we?" James held the door open. Lily stepped out, paused and turned to James.

"D'you think I could get that ice pack again? Dramatic effect."

"I like the way you think, Evans." They made a quick pitstop to get the ice pack and then Lily led the way to her date.

James had to give it to her – she knew how to act. She winced each time the ice pack jostled. Her facial features were rearranged to express mild pain and discomfort.

Lily stopped by the man who James had earlier noticed with two cups of coffee.

"Charles, I'm sorry but I'm afraid we'll have to cut this date short."

'Charles' rose from his seat, looking alarmed at the sight of an injured Lily. "Lily! What happened?!"

James stepped in. "She slipped and hit her head. I found her lying on the floor trying to get up. I suggest you take her to a hospital, Sir. Y'know, to make sure she doesn't have a concussion or anything."

"Slipped?" Mr. High-and-Mighty turned to Lily. "How?"

Lily muttered something about water and not looking where she was going. She adjusted the icepack and hissed in "pain" convincingly.

The man looked positively livid. "I should have you all sued! Is this how you run this place?! Water on the floor?! With no caution board?!"

Lily lay a soothing hand on his chest and cooed. "It's alright, Charles. It was my fault; I wasn't looking. Anyway I need to get to a hospital."

Charles cooled down. "Right. I'll bring the car 'round."

"No!" Lily said quickly. Too quickly. "I mean, it's fine. Mary's on her way."

"Oh." Charles looked disappointed. "Well then, I'll wait with you."

"Honestly Charles, I'll be _fine_. This nice young man"-she gestured to James-"will be here. You go home. Wouldn't want to be late for your sister's engagement with the Prince of Geneva."

James detected a hint of ridicule in her tone but Mr. High-and-Mighty apparently didn't notice.

Charles nodded and kissed Lily on the cheek. "Call me later?"

"Sure." Charles turned and left. "Not." Lily added. She collapsed into the chair and sighed in relief.

James sat in a chair opposite to her. "What was wrong with him? Seemed like a nice bloke."

"One can only take so much boasting of all his huge mansions and fancy cars before you want to run him over with said car."

James chuckled, "One of my dates lectured me about the evils of dating apps and went on to rant about her ex who she'd met via the same app." They laughed. "Oh and she forbade me from drinking any alcohol. Our date was at a pub."

Still laughing, she got up and hitched her bag higher on her shoulder.

"Thank you James, for being my knight in"-she took in his attire-"brown smock. And they say chivalry is dead."

"You're welcome but um...," he ran his hand through his unruly hair,"...my intentions aren't all that honourable."

"Oh?"

"I-er... I was... um...hoping you'd agree to go on a... uh... date with me if I bailed you out of your shitty one." My, that was painful. James closed his eyes and braced himself to be slapped. The slap didn't come. He tentatively opened one eye. Lily was regarding him with amusement.

"Quite forward of you, Sir Potter." James laughed nervously.

"Well, it's the least I can do. I accept, Sir Potter," She bowed in a curtsy. James could scarcely believe it. He, _James Potter_ , had a date with her, _Lily Evans_.

"Oh, brilliant." James smile lit up his whole face. Quick as a flash he whipped out his phone and asked for her number. They exchanged numbers.

She bid him adieu and as she was walking out of the café, she saluted him.

When she had left and the door closed behind her, James did a happy jig. His glasses slid down his nose and his smock untied.

His phone buzzed in his back pocket. He had a message from Lily Evans.

A video of his happy dance was what he saw. His phone beeped again. This time it was a text message.

'If you try to bail out of this date, I'll make this viral. :)'

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Well, that was fun. I'm not quite satisfied with how it came out (I blame writer's OCD. Don't give me that look. It's a thing) but I would love to hear your thoughts. My friends said it was amazing but they have to say that. They're my _friends._ So tell me honestly what you thought. And if you want to give me prompt leave it in the reviews or PM me. I'll see what I can do.

Cheerio!


	2. The Lucky Scarf

Hi!

I'm back. Did you miss me? *crickets chirping*

I forgot this the last time.

Disclaimer : I don't own any of the characters or any part of Harry Potter. All rights to the Queen, JKR.

Anyway I'm sorta busy so let's just get into it.

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Prompt #2:You're my neighbour and it just snowed like 2 feet in six hours and the whole street is snowed in. I catch you building a snowman army in your back yard and I decide to join to join you by starting a snowball fight.

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"I'm . . . dreaming . . . of a white . . . Christmaaaas." Lily Evans crooned. She bundled up in thick fluffy sweaters. She pulled on her pastel pink mittens and her matching snow boots. She was searching for her lucky scarf when her house mate, Marlene McKinnon, addressed her.

"Lily! I'm heading out! Come out in 5!"

"I can't find my lucky scarf!" Lily shouted back.

"So wear another one!"

Marlene appeared in Lily's doorway.

"I can't _just_ _wear another one_ ," Lily said, a scandalised look on her face. "It's my _lucky scarf_." Marlene shook her head, took the scarf off her own neck, wound it around Lily's neck, hooked her arm through Lily's arm and dragged her out.

"But my lucky scarf . . ." Lily whined, letting herself be dragged.

"No buts. It's the first snow and I'm not breaking tradition even if Ginger was to go missing."

Lily sucked in a sharp, affronted breath. Ginger had been her loyal, grumpy cat since she was fourteen years old.

"You're mean," Lily said, feeling like a petulant child.

"Why, thank you."

"Why am I even friends with you?"

"Because you looove me," Marlene sang. She opened the door and they were assaulted by a frigid cold breeze. An expanse of fresh white snow stretched out as far as the eye could see. Marlene closed the door behind them.

She left Lily on the front porch and ran onto to lawn. She started rolling snow into a huge ball. Every winter they try to build the biggest snowman ever. Every year they get stuck on the first step – the largest ball would be on one end of the lawn and the middle one would be on the other. How were they supposed to stack them up? Magic?

But this year Lily did not feel very co-operative. No siree, it's just _not_ tradition without her lucky scarf.

Lily debated going back inside to find her scarf. Marlene would probably cause grievous bodily harm. Ah sod it all. She was going to get her scarf.

She went back inside. Ginger, who was sitting by the door, hissed in protest at the draught of cold air she brought in with her. The cat ran away

"Sorry, Ginge!" Lily shouted after her.

Lily strode into her room with purpose. She was a woman on mission. Drug mafias cowered in her presence. Finding her lucky scarf would be a piece of cake.

Half an hour later, Lily lost all motivation. Drug mafias didn't cower in her presence. Hell, even her 3 year old nephew took advantage of Lily's kindness.

She laid back on her bed – or rather the humongous pile of clothes on her bed. Ginger crawled out from under the clothes and snuggled into Lily's side.

Lily absentmindedly stroked her carroty fur. Ginger purred and stretched out. Her claws caught on the woollen scarf Marlene had wrapped around Lily's neck. The scarf was maroon with gold stripes just like . . . her lucky scarf!

Lily bolted out off her room and yanked the front door open.

Marlene was still working on the snowman. She appeared to have roped in their neighbours, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew, to help her.

"MARLENE MCKINNON!" Lily bellowed. "YOU THIEF!" She bent down and packed a snowball. With all her might, she threw it at Marlene. She missed. It hit Peter. Peter shrieked.

"Oh, sorry Peter!"

She moved closer to Marlene and before Marlene had time to react she aimed another one. This time, it hit the mark.

"What the hell, Lily?!" Marlene ducked as Lily chucked another snowball.

"You know what! You stole my lucky scarf!"

"I didn't steal your bloody scarf!"

"Then what is this?" Lily paused in her frantic snowball-throwing to indicate the scarf around her neck.

"Your scarf," Marlene said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Exactly! _My_ scarf, _my lucky_ scarf!" Lily emphasised her point with an extra-large snowball. Marlene dodged to hide behind Sirius. The snowball hit him.

"Oi!" he cried indignantly. Sirius was not quite as forgiving as Peter. He threw one at Lily and yelled "SNOWBALL FIGHT!"

'Fight is not an adequate word to describe what followed. It was a full blown war. Between Lily's yelling at Marlene, Marlene's defending herself and the four boys' gleeful whoops and taunts, it sounded like Godzilla was on the rampage again.

Approximately 129 snowballs later, everyone was exhausted and pink in the face. They collapsed in the snow. Marlene and Peter proceeded to make snow angels. Sirius sat in the snow and drew patterns. Remus simply lay still. Lily found herself lying next to James.

Lily turned to James. She burst out laughing.

'What?" asked James.

"Y-your h-ha-hair!" she spluttered in between wild fits of laughter. "It's white!"

James usually jet black hair was streaked with white from the snow. He ran a hand through his hair and flecks of snow fell.

"She's right, mate," Sirius pitched in. "You look like a 50 year old." James propped himself up on one elbow to face both Sirius and Lily.

"Well,"- he looked at Sirius-"you look like a 55 year old and you"-he turned to Lily-"you look like a candy cane."

"At least a candy cane's sweet," Lily retorted.

"Just like you," James quipped just as quickly.

"Aw Prongs," Sirius mocked James. "You're sweet too."

Lily decided to ignore James's quip and her fluttering heart. Instead she said, "I've been meaning to ask- Why do you call James that?"

"It's a nickname. I'm Prongs, Sirius is Padfoot, Peter's Wormtail, and Remus is Moony," James explained.

"Obviously they're nicknames," Lily rolled her eyes. "But why?"

"I believe the question is 'Why not?'" Sirius answered.

"Which is code for you're not going to tell me, right?"

"I would tell you but then I'd have to kill you."

"Hm. I rather happen to like living so I think I'll pass.'

"But we will tell you the story behind 'Moony'," James interjected. "You see, he's-"

"Ah ah ah. Not so fast," Sirius cut him off. "I'll tell the story, Prongs. You're an awful storyteller."

"Right. My apologies."

"Lily, the truth is-"Sirius paused, presumably for dramatic effect-"Remus, he's got a fetish for the moon."

"I do not!" Remus snapped in annoyance.

"Fetish? What kind of fetish?" Marlene's interest was piqued.

"The most horrible kind," Peter replied. "He'd write poems."

"I was _eleven_ " Remus was quick to defend himself.

"Oh my beautiful moon," Sirius began.

"To me, you're a boon," James joined in and the pair continued melodramatically.

"I despise the noon

For I cannot see you, my moon

I love you like a loon

We shall be together soon."

Everyone, save for Remus, was laughing their heads off. Remus tried to salvage whatever little dignity he had left and said in a small voice, "I wanted to be the first man on the moon."

"Sure you did."

"Keep telling yourself that."

"Lay off, it's a respectable dream." This was Lily. "Come on Remus, I'll get you a nice cup of hot chocolate." Lily made to get up.

Peter jumped up. "Oh, me too! My fingers might fall off; they're almost blue and completely numb." Peter raised his blue hands,

"Peter, you dunce. Where are your gloves?" Lily rebuked.

"They were too small. I didn't have proper hand function to throw snowballs properly."

"And apparently no brain function either." Lily's voice was exasperated and her mothering instincts began to kick in. "Everyone inside. I'll make you all a cup of hot chocolate."

"All right!" Marlene shouted joyously and she ran inside.

"We love you, Lils," chorused Sirius and playfully pecked her cheek as he passed by the front door. Remus smiled gratefully and Peter grinned sheepishly. James ruffled her hair.

When Lily found a heat pad, she brought it over to Peter and gently laid his fingers on them.

"Honestly Lily, what would we do without you?" said Peter.

"You would all be dead." Lily said matter-of-factly. She walked out of the den and to the adjacent kitchen to make the hot cocoa.

"Harsh, but true," Remus observed.

"You're one lucky bird, Marlene, for getting a house mate like Lily," Sirius said.

"Psh. Me? Lucky? For that one?" She jerked a finger to the kitchen.

"Oi!" Lily's voice was muffled.

"Oh please, just last week you had a near mental breakdown because you couldn't find the remote."

"Doctor Who was about to come on." Lily reappeared with a tray of hot chocolate. She passed it around and took the only free seat next to James.

"The remote was right in front of you."

"Doctor Who's a decent reason for a near mental breakdown," James backed Lily.

"Thank you," Lily grinned at James. "Somebody gets it."

"Whatever." Marlene sank back into the couch.

They lapsed into silence as everyone took the first sips of their cocoa. But the silence didn't last long and it was Marlene who broke it.

"Hey! How come I only got two marshmallows? Remus got three."

"I got three too." Sirius stuck his tongue out at Marlene. James smiled into his cocoa and _four_ marshmallows. He caught Lily's eye and she winked.

"That's because I'm still cross with you." Lily told Marlene though she was smiling.

"Oh for the last time"- she threw up her free hand in exasperation-"I didn't know it was your stupid scarf."

"Please Marlene; _everyone_ knows it's my lucky scarf." To prove her point she turned to James and asked, "James, which is my lucky scarf?"

"The one you're wearing, Lily," James answered promptly.

She turned back to Marlene and said, "See?"

"He knows that because he fancies you, love," Sirius supplied.

"Padfoot!" James exclaimed. Everybody else laughed. Lily laughed with the rest but inside all she could hear was 'hefanciesyouhefanciesyouhefanciesyouhefanciesyou'

"Don't you have somewhere to be? You know, to do that _thing_ ," James gave Sirius a pointed look. Sirius seemed confused.

"What thing?" Sirius asked. Remus elbowed him.

"You know, that _thing_." Remus got up and pulled Sirius up along with him. "C'mon, Peter. We need to make sure he does that _thing_." Peter nodded in comprehension.

It suddenly dawned on Sirius what the other three were on about because he shouted "Oh!" and jumped up sans hesitation. He tugged at Marlene and said, "You should probably come too."

"What are you people even talking about?"

"You'll find out if you come with me."

"No."

"No?"

"No." Marlene fixed Sirius with a stubborn glare. "Not till you tell me why."

"Because."

"Yeah, _that_ answers all my questions. How eloquent." Marlene drawled.

"Marlene, _trust me_. It's something we've all been talking about." Remus gave Marlene a meaningful look, trying to convey something. His eyes darted between James and Lily.

And presto - Marlene sprang up like a jack-in-the-box and left along with the rest. She could be heard saying "Why didn't you say so before?" and the door slammed after them.

"Well, that was interesting." Lily was the first to break the silence. James hummed noncommittally. He sat next to Lily, looking at her curiously. Lily cradled the hot chocolate between her hands. She felt the scarf twitch and she saw James rubbing the ends of scarf between his index finger and thumb.

She raised her eyebrows questioningly at him.

"On a scale of one to ten, how lucky would you say your scarf is?"

"A twelve."

"Oh really?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Mhm. I got into uni wearing this scarf. I even landed my first job with this."

James nodded wordlessly. A beat passed and the scarf was lifted off her neck by James. Lily protested but James was having none of it. He wound it around his own neck.

"Willyougooutwithme?"

"What?" Lily scrunched up her face.

James took a deep breath. "Do you, maybe, want to go out with me on a date sometime?"

"You daft blighter, I should conk you over the head." Instead she socked his arm.

"Er-Is that a no?"

"' _Is that a no?'_ " Lily mimicked. "It's a yes, foolish boy! Do you know how long I waited for this?"

"You _waited_?"

"I didn't bring muffins around every morning for nothing."

"I thought you were being nice."

Lily scoffed. "I am nice, James, but not that nice. And those muffins bloody well weren't for Sirius. Don't get me wrong. Sirius is a brill bloke but not the kind you dream about marrying."

James smiled and the corners of his eyes crinkled beneath his glasses. "You dream about marrying me?"

"I-uh-er . . . How does 6 o' clock on Saturday work for you?"

"Perfect."

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Better than the last one. Don't you think so? Anyway leave your opinion on your way out and you shall receive a cookie and my unconditional love. Adios!


	3. Soup Cans and Lunch

A/N: Okay, so this was the hardest prompt because I had to do some research but it's finally done.(It only took a few days to write. It took months to actually start writing). I had a lot of fun writing the parts in italics. Hope you like it!

Disclaimer : Nope, hasn't changed since last time. Unless JKR neglected to inform me in which case Hurrah! I own HP. Firewhiskey (if you're not of age you get butterbeer) on me.

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Prompt #3: We're researching the same art piece at a museum for a school paper and we get into so many arguments about the symbolism that the security guard has to escort us out.

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James didn't get the point. It was just some cans of soup. He was sure that even he could have done that.

He tilted his head, hoping that the new angle would lend him a new perspective and then he could find out what was so bloody fascinating about this piece of art. Nope, from the left they still looked like soup cans.

Maybe if he tilted his head to the right. Aha, more soup cans. But he had to admit the right side was more flattering. Still, not flattering enough for him to take them to dinner.

 _Why, Andy Warhol, why? You could have painted anything else in the entire universe – unicorns, sunflowers, blue men, naked ladies - and you chose Campbell's soup cans?! And they say I'm crazy. Honestly. And now you're dead and I'm stuck writing papers for uni to explain your weird motives. Did you have some sort of fetish? That really isn't healthy, mate._

 _Or did you just really like soup? Can't blame you there; delicious and ready to eat, it's every single bloke's dreams. Of course, it doesn't match my Mum's cooking. You should try her spaghetti. It is to die for. Oh. . . that was insensitive of me._

James missed his Mum's cooking. Come to think of it, he missed his Mum and his Dad. He'd never stayed apart from them for more than a few weeks and now he was on the other side of the ocean in New York City of all places.

He had nothing against the city that never sleeps but the hustle and bustle didn't suit him. He was a Bristol person through and through. He liked his nosy neighbours. He liked that one pasture with cows that he would tip in his days as a miscreant with his friends. He liked tea with lots of sugar and teensy bit of milk in the mornings. Coffee was a far too strong drink and always wound him up made him hyper; well, more hyper than usual.

But there was nothing he could do about it now. He was stuck here as part of a student exchange program in a bid to build healthy relationships between universities, increase international cooperation and encourage holistic development . . . or some codswallop like that. Not only was he in a foreign place, but they expected him to write a paper on Andy Warhol's _Campbell's Soup Cans_. To top it all off, the soup cans were making him hungry. There wouldn't be a scrap of food in the crappy living quarters he had been given, not when Sirius was sharing it with him. Perhaps, he should get married. The idea of a doting wife and hot, home-cooked meals waiting for him when he reached home was appealing even though his very feministic mother would castrate him for ever voicing such a thought.

 _Were you a bachelor too? A rich, famous thing like you? A girl never caught your fancy? Did you have impossibly high standards? Psh, as if. You painted soup cans because you thought they were delicious, you couldn't possibly –_

"Excuse me," a young redhead behind James interrupted his inner ramblings.

 _Well hello there. You pull off the red way better than the soup cans. Say, would you like to go to dinner with me?_

She gestured for him to move with her hand and offered him a hesitant smile. "You're blocking the view." Her accent sounded British but he couldn't place exactly where.

 _I'm a much better view, love. Trust me, I speak from experience._

James smiled back sheepishly and moved aside. Out of the corner of his eyes, he observed the woman. She had dark red hair that fell just past her shoulders in waves. The corners of her pretty pink mouth were turned up as though she smiled a great deal. Her vibrant green eyes were examining the painting with an interest they did not warrant. James couldn't, for the life of him, figure out what was so enthralling about the _Campbell's Soup Cans_. Now, if she had been the painting, he could have stared for hours.

James wanted to engage in conversation with the lovely lady three feet to his right. He hadn't spoken to anyone in one whole hour. The horror!

His mind racked through the various ways to start a conversation.

 _Think the painting's a work of art? You should look in the mirror._

 _Nah, too forward._

 _You deserved to be pinned up against this wall because you're a masterpiece._

 _No, too sleazy._

 _Is your hair naturally this colour?_

 _No. Just no._

"So you like soup?" The words tumbled out of James' mouth before he could stop them and cringed.

The woman didn't register his words for a few seconds and gave him an 'Oh, me?' look. James grimaced.

 _I'm afraid so._

The woman shrugged. "S' alright, I suppose."

"Are you from the U.K.?"

 _See, now that's an acceptable line. Why couldn't you have thought of that the first time, brain? I get that you have other important bodily functions to control but get your priorities straight! Conversation openers trump breathing._

"Yeah, Bristol to be specific. I'm here for a semester abroad." Her lips were pulled into a half smile as if she was trying decide whether he was a creep who routinely picked up women in art museums or not.

"Oh cool. I live in Bristol too and am here for a sem abroad. What's your major?"

"Art History."

"That's funny, my major's Art History too."

The redhead turned her body slightly towards James to see him better. She seemed amused at this odd turn of events.

"Small world, huh?"

"I'll say. Are you, by any chance, here because you have to write a paper on _Campbell's Soup Cans_?" James asked.

The redhead nodded and beamed at him.

 _Oh what a dazzling smile! Mona Lisa, you better watch out. This bird beat you by a kilometre and half._

"I'm Lily," she held out her hand, shaking James out of his reverie.

"James." He shook her hand and was surprised to find that it was cold and smooth. She looked like fire personified; not the wild forest fire but the tame, relaxing fire you sit around in winter.

With one final smile at him, she turned back to resume scrutinizing the paintings. To say James was disappointed was a gross understatement. It had been so long since he met someone who was English other than his mates in uni, that it made him all the more homesick. He wanted to keep talking to her, keep hearing the way she said the words. Not harsh sounds like most New Yorkers but soft, melodious tones. Not fast like Americans but slow and each word clearly enunciated.

"It's a rather dull painting, isn't it?" James broke the silence after two minutes.

"I like it." Her voice was indignant.

 _Way to go, James. Offend the prettiest bird you've ever seen._

But James didn't change his opinion to impress Lily. James never changed his ideas and thoughts to placate someone. That was why he didn't date Becca Wilder for long in fifth form. She wanted him to agree with her on everything.

James' perfect woman would be one who could banter with him and carry on a healthy debate.

"Really? I don't get the point. It's just bleeding _soup cans_."

"That's the point. Nobody would think of painting something so common but when Warhol painted it, everybody gave it a second thought."

"A second thought? Like 'What's up with this barmy old codger?'"

The corner of Lily's lips turned up at James' comment but otherwise, there was no indication that she was amused.

" _No._ Like how much we take for granted in our lives. For someone like us, a soup can's nothing special. But for people like Warhol, the soup would be their first meal in days, perhaps even weeks."

"The bloke made millions per canvas. Not to mention the fact that this whole display has thirty two canvases."

"Sure but it was linked to his childhood. I read that his mother used to make tin can flowers out of their old discarded tins to support their family."

" _I_ read that Warhol liked Campbell's soup, Coca-Cola, money and celebrities and guess what? - he painted all four."

"Well, _I_ read that he was the first abstract expressionist to celebrate modernity."

 _Abstract Expressionists? This bird is good. And fit. So very fit. . . Where was I going with this? Oh right, abstract expressionists._

"And _I_ read that several critics disregarded his work as an effort to mechanise art."

" _I_ read that he was the one to usher in pop art to the art movement in United States."

"Did you know that his work was thought of as a commercial gimmick meant to advertise products?"

"No, I did not," she shook her head. "Did you know there were special edition soup cans with Andy Warhol's autograph?"

"No I did not," James mimicked. "But that just proves my point that this was a commercial gimmick."

"Oh for Pete's sake," the woman huffed in exasperation and James couldn't help but smile for two reasons. One, the lady looked exceptionally attractive at that moment. Two, James was reminded of his good friends, Peter Pettigrew, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. They had a running joke among them that whenever Peter screwed up – which, unfortunately, happened a _lot_ – they would sigh in mock exasperation 'Oh for Pete's sake.'

James' smile seemed to further irritate Lily because she straightened her spine and stood in what could undeniably be her 'fight stance.'

"You're not seeing the big picture," Lily continued.

"Believe me; I'm seeing it all right. I'm seeing thirty two of them," James cut in dryly.

Lily did not appreciate James' pathetic joke. She narrowed her eyes at him. "His work was fresh and original in those days. He embraced modernity in art while it was a shunned topic amongst other artists. While they painted apples and pears, he painted soup cans."

"I'm sure that's what you like to think," James began. "I'm not saying it's wrong," he added hastily as he saw Lily open her mouth to retort. "I'm a bloke, he was a bloke and as much as it shames me to admit, we don't have many deep thoughts."

 _No deep thoughts at all. A bloke only needs to know where his next meal is coming from. This bloke would also like to know whether you would like to accompany him for said meal._

 _Gah, stupid voice who keeps spouting pick-up lines! Knock it off! I'm trying to impress a bird with my understanding insight and astute wisdom._

 _Ha! Wisdom? You? Nice joke, Potter. Hahahahahaha._

 _Oh, shut up._

"Our main concern is food," James continued. "My bet is Warhol was hungry and was too lazy to get of his rich bum and go shopping. So he drew soup cans. Kind of like how I try to get the telly remote to come to me using the 'Force'"- he made quotes with his fingers-"even though I know it's not going to work."

"Now see, all that you said right now is very contradictory," Lily countered. "His bum was not rich until _after_ he painted the soup cans. So for all we know, he couldn't have been lazy, merely a victim of circumstance. And you said before that Andy liked money. Somebody who likes money is very driven and ambitious. If he was, in fact, hungry he would have walked whatever distance to get the soup."

"You're a bundle of contradictions yourself, Ms. Lily. First off, who doesn't like money? You can buy a personal robot with money. Yes please. And secondly, he did indeed like money. Which makes him stingy. Ergo he wouldn't waste it on soup cans."

"So your reasoning is that he was too lazy and stingy to buy soup but he was all for painting, a task which requires patience and diligence?" She raised her eyebrows incredulously.

"Patience and diligence?" he scoffed. "He painted soup cans."

"Yes, but a lot of thought went into this display. He got a lot of money in return too."

"He painted soup cans. It was new, inventive and so people labelled him the next genius. It's an illusion that has been going on for centuries."

"Art is all about illusion," she said, her voice raised. Her mood seemed to shift from annoyance to anger.

"But there is no illusion in Warhol's work. It's straightforward." Lily's anger spurred James.

"Exactly!" she shouted. "It's straightforward. There was no hidden meaning. No silent judgements n society. No tragic back story involving a scorned lover. Simple and clean."

James noted that several people had turned to watch them. A voice which sounded strangely like Remus was talking in his head.

 _The lady has a point. Why not just concede, Prongs? It will do no good creating a commotion in one of the most famous art museums in the world. Besides, it's not going to help you get in her good graces._

 _Yeah but. . ._

James had never been one to walk away from a fight. And then came the Sirius-in-his-head to play the devil's advocate.

 _You're really going to let this bint get the better of you? I'm ashamed of you. Come on, she's waiting for a response. You know what they say about redheads. Let's see how far you can go till she explodes. Make me proud._

All of James' better instincts were telling him to keep it down. The last thing he wanted was to create a scene in the Museum of Modern Art.

But when had James ever listened to his better instincts?

"Exactly!" he shouted back. "Art is supposed to have a tragic backstory," he stressed. "It's about feelings and emotions. It's about misery and despair. It's about rage and anger. It's about love and passion." He sighed and said slowly to drive home his point. "Art is about freedom of speech."

Lily blinked at his response, taken aback. Few people who were listening to their fairly heated debate clapped and cheered. James grinned gratefully at the crowd and sweeped his arms in an exaggerated bow to his audience. He even went so far as to blow a few kisses.

Lily recovered from her initial shock at James' ardent declamation and was sobered by the crowd's clapping. There was a spark in her eye that James hadn't noticed before and it was more intense than anything he had ever seen before.

"Whoa there, Mr. Just-do-it." Several people tittered and James had to admit that was a good shot. "That was Warhol's way of exercising his freedom of speech. He got so much criticism and backlash for expressing his few on modernity."

James was just about to reply when a burly, sandy haired man in a grey security guard uniform stepped in between.

"All right, I'm gonna have to ask you to break it up and leave the building. We've been getting complaints about you two for the past hour." His bushy moustache flopped on his upper lip as he spoke. James was distracted by it before he registered what the giant of a man was saying.

"What?" he exclaimed at the same time as Lily.

"But we were just-"

"I still have to-"

"This is not right-"

"I haven't-"

They both started talking loud and fast, listing a variety of reasons as to why they shouldn't be kicked out of the building. No one could hear what they were saying, all their words minced into a noisy and incensed buzz.

"ENOUGH!" roared the man. Immediately they ceased talking. "You are being a public nuisance and I have been told to escort you out," he said unkindly. The man gestured in faux politeness for them to follow him.

They did so albeit reluctantly. James looked at the crowd and glared at the people in the back who looked far too smug in his opinion. The others just looked as though all they were missing was a bucket of popcorn.

 _Bloody unhelpful lot you are. You didn't have a problem clapping or laughing at my expense. Bloody_ _sacrilege! That's what this is. Well, good day to you and good luck finding any entertainment here. You just kicked_ _it out._

 _Unfairness and injustice! Where's Batman when you need him? Probably having high tea with Commissioner Gordon back in Gotham. You're no superhero. You're not there when the people need you, namely me. You're not Batman. You're. . . You're. . . You're Batboy. There! Take that._

They reached the entrance of the building. The security guard gave them a once-over, his moustache curled in disdain.

 _Please, do look at us like murdered babies. Are you going to give us the capital punishment too? The Queen will not stand for this._

With one last condescending look, he left the pair on the steps under the hot noon sun.

"This wouldn't have happened in England," the redhead muttered to herself.

"Too right."

She was startled that he had heard her but recovered nonetheless.

"Americans and their blatant capitalism," she indulged him. "Our monarchy would not stand by and watch this happen."

James smiled and carried on the playful banter. "Not to mention the parliament would be livid, seeing their citizens treated this way."

"Nah, they didn't do anything about Brexit. I put more trust in the Queen. Especially after her stunt in the 2012 Olympics."

"The Queen would politely tell that big meanie to piss off and one of her ladies-in-waiting would punch him ."

She smiled even wider and said "It was nice meeting you. I have plenty of material for my paper."

James laughed, "Yeah."

"Well . . . Bye." She waved.

James waved back and Lily turned and started to walk down the steps.

 _What are you doing, you stupid arse? Why are you letting her walk away? Run after her! Sweep her off her feet! Profess your undying love for her! Propose! Tell her you want to spend your life with her! Tell her you want to make babies with her! MOVE YOUR FEET, YOU GREAT BIG BUFFOON!_

"Wait!" he yelled and ran after her, taking the steps two at a time. "It's destiny!"

She turned to him, alarmed. "Sorry?"

 _Prat. Git. Prig. You must seem mental to her. Wait, you ARE mental._

"I mean, it's eleven thirty." He made a big show of looking at his watch. ". . . plus thirty."

 _Very smooth. A marvellous save. Would you like a medal that says 'World's Biggest Idiot'? I'm sure the Queen would also be delighted to appoint you the Royal Dunce._

"Okay?" Her brows were knit in confusion.

"We're both English. We're both from Bristol. We're both here to do a semester abroad. We have the same major. We're doing a paper on the same painting"

"Okay?" Her expression was one of complete bewilderment.

"I know this fab Chinese place just round the corner. My mates and I order from there every Tuesday and Thursday. Lunch?"

Lily finally understood.

"Lunch," she agreed.

 _She understood your deranged rambling. She's a keeper. Never let her go. Or you'll be a bachelor well into your eighties. Supposing she'll have you, you maniacal loon._

"Great," he grinned.

"As long as it's not soup," she added.

James laughed. "I soup-pose that's possible."

She laughed.

* * *

A/N: Ta-da. Wasn't that fun? Leave a review and tell me how you liked it. (Or hated it) I also have another favour to ask. Did you see the story title? Yeah, it's about as original as naming a goldfish Goldie. So I would like your suggestions for another title.

On a totally unrelated note, it's summer break for me and though I have some classes and stuff, hopefully I'll be able update later. If you have a prompt for me, then send it!

Bye and see (write) you soon! (Hopefully.)


	4. Fireworks

A/N: I don't know what to say. It's . . . meh. But it's the biggest one I've written so far. Only one more prompt to go.

Disclaimer: I don't own. Please don't sue me.

* * *

Prompt #4: If you set off one more firework at 3 am I will fight you.

* * *

Lily threw back the last of the pungent coffee in her mug. Her face scrunched in protest of all the bitter coffee assaulting her senses. The caffeine rushed through her fatigue-ridden body but it did nothing to wake her up.

She glanced at her bedside alarm clock and the red digital '1:47 a.m.' blinked at her. Great. In seven hours Lily Evans would be attending one of the most important exams of her life.

Lily picked up the lab notes she had been going through and skimmed through it one last time. Not that she needed to, of course. She knew the material even _better_ than the back of her hand. She could probably ace the test in her sleep.

But that didn't stop her from worrying.

You see, Lily Evans came from a long line of Compulsive Worriers. Her Great-Aunt Martha was a Compulsive Worrier. Her Grand-dad Jones was a Compulsive Worrier. Her Uncle Stu is a Compulsive Worrier. Her Dad is a Compulsive Worrier who married a fellow Compulsive Worrier, namely her Mum. Even the family cat, Garlic, is a Compulsive Worrier. (The cat was a ginger so they named him Garlic.)

It was inevitable that Lily Evans was born a compulsive worrier. They were the Compulsive Worriers™. It's the family business and who was she to say no.

For that reason, when Lily was finally settled in bed she just couldn't sleep. Maybe she couldn't sleep because she hadn't gone through her usual nightly routine. In addition to being the CEO of Compulsive Worriers™, Lily was also slightly OCD but only slightly and only in the matter of her nightly routine. She's _not_ a nutter, okay?

So she got out of bed, gathered the notes she had pushed to the foot of the bed and set them straight on her desk. She changed out her now sweaty sweats and t-shirt into her favourite holey flannel pyjamas and bunny slippers. She brushed her teeth with her spearmint toothpaste, taking extra care to reach even those pesky places such as the back of her molars and between her pre-molars. She put the coffee mug to the kitchen sink, not bothering to wash it.

It was her housemate, Dorcas' day on the dishes. Dorcas had gone to a classmate's house for a study session. She then texted Lily _'I'm going to crash at Marlene's_ _place. Try not to get murdered by a serial killer. xxx '_ She had texted back a lone ' _K_ ' just to spite her and decided dirty dishes in the sink would be a nice 'Welcome Back' present for Dorcas to come back to.

She also sent her daily ' _I'm still_ alive' message to her parents - A ' _Yes, I'm staying hydrated and drinking plenty of fluids. No, I'm not using protection. Thought getting pregnant would be a nice graduation present to myself (I was joking, Mum. Please don't kill me. I don't even date. At this rate I'll be joining nunnery.)Love you._ ' to her Mum and a 'Ha _! Chelsea totally beat Arsenal. You owe me ten pounds! Send a cheque. Sweet Dreams and all my love._ ' to her Dad.

At long last, Lily was snuggled, warm and comfy under her grey covers. She drifted off to sleep and began to dream.

 _She was in the chemistry lab. She was standing at her place in a designer lab coat with sparkly white sequins (Gucci specially designed it for her). The professor was standing in front wearing a jade coat and nifty red top hat around which a live snake was slithering like a very evil, very ominous halo. Professor Slughorn was rocking the look if Lily could say so herself. His bushy moustache wobbled as he said in a professional game show host manner, "Your time starts . . . NOW!"_

 _Brilliant. Now, if only Lily could figure out what her task was. Was she supposed capture the snake and make rabbit soup? Was she supposed to shave off the bushy moustache and donate it to cancer patients? Was she supposed to – ooh! Look! There were so many brightly coloured liquids in funky bottle of different designs. Some were fuming. Some were hissing. Some were spitting out sparks like sparklers. Some were doing the cha-cha. Some were singing a very odd rendition of 'I will survive.'_

 _Aha! Lily clapped her hands in delight and jumped up and down, shooting several metres into the air each time and bumping her head on the ceiling each time. Lily finally understood. The professor wanted her to mix the liquids and make pretty colours. Well, that she could do. She was the only kindergartner who had known that blue and red mix to give violet and red and yellow mix to give orange. Now was a fabulous time to showcase her intelligence._

 _Lily picked up the crystal wine glass with the hissing blue liquid and the chipped mug of the singing red liquid. With all the skills of a contortionist, Lily set a diamond studded bowl on the counter using her feet. She poured the two liquids into the bowl when-_

 _BOOM!_

Lily woke in a panic, her fringe plastered to her forehead in sticky sweat. She stood on shaky legs as she slipped her feet into her bunny slippers. She wobbled to kitchen to get herself a cool drink of water.

What a funny, terrifying dream. And the saddest part was Lily could actually see it happening in real life. She could see Slughorn wearing such a hideous outfit but still looking absolutely smashing in it. (Slughorn was a barmy old coot.) She could see herself jumping like a five year old hopped up on sugar and banging her head on the ceiling. (Lily was very tall.) But most unsettling of all, she could see herself mixing two liquids that looked like it should not be mixed under any circumstance other than the annihilation of the world simply to see the end result. (Lily was very curious.)

BOOM!

And now her mind playing games with her. She had heard of people being close to an explosion hearing the sound like a broken record but never when the explosion was part of a dream.

BOOM!

There it was again.

Fizz. . . Snap! POP!

That's strange. It sounded like . . . firecrackers!

She moved to look out the window above the kitchen sink and she saw the silhouettes of four men. They wobbled, tittered, giggled and whooped. In the hands of two, there were sparklers. One was crouching over something on the lawn and another was watching the whole scene before him wordlessly.

Well, really. Getting drunk was one thing. Disrupting the entire neighborhood while you're at it is simply inexcusable. Not to mention that the boys didn't even live there. The house belonged to the elderly couple of Mr. and Mrs. Thomson.

Lily was livid. (And also a bit delighted that she didn't have another mental disorder but that's not important.) You know that stereotype of redheads being short-tempered? It was absolutely true in her case.

She stormed out of her house and towards the lawn, leading her bunny slippers to war. She grumbled to herself about 'Kids these days' and 'What is the world coming to?'.

"If you set off one more firecracker at 3 a.m. I will fight you!"

Nobody, not even the bat in the tree, paid her any attention. So much for a dramatic entrance.

She scowled at the boys. To her surprise she recognized two of the boys.

One was Remus Lupin, an intellectual who Lily was surprised to find here. She sat next to him during English Lit when Dorcas decided she'd rather skive off to have greasy burgers at the place that was stingy with ketchup packets like they were Scrooge. She had had many stimulating debates on Shakespeare with Remus. He was level headed, practical and reserved which is why it was so astonishing to find him giggling about sparklers and exclaiming, "Peter! Look at all the pretty colours!"

The other was Sirius Black. Though Lily had no common classes with the boy, she occasionally saw him in his mechanics class. When Lily was bored she would sneak into various classes just to see what she was missing out on. That's right; most people snuck out off classes, Lily snuck _in_ to them.

Sirius was a smart egg with luscious black locks that was envied by every guy and girl alike. Though ladies flocked to him like moths to the flame, his one true love remained his motorcycle which he customised by himself. Lily enjoyed talking to him and exchanging witty banter while he teased her to no end about her bountiful quirks.

"Remus!" she screeched. She had more chance of talking sense into Remus than Sirius and she hadn't met the other two.

"Lily!" He jumped in delight on spotting her. "The sparkler's as red as your hair! Isn't it pretty? Isn't it pretty?!" He thrust the sparkler in her face and Lily stepped away in the fear of getting burned.

Hm . . . well, maybe he was better off talking to Sirius. Sirius was sitting on the porch steps and staring at the night sky. In all honesty, Lily was a bit worried about him.

"Sirius?" she began, lightly touching his shoulder so as to not startle him.

He turned and Lily was surprised to see all the emotions in his grey eyes.

"You're hair is as red as the blood of fallen warrior." Lily's mouth dropped. What's with Poetic Sirius? It's like he and Remus exchanged personalities. "But we shan't worry about fallen warriors tonight, because our warrior has returned home victorious!"

He stood up, wobbled on his feet and gestured to a lanky boy with hair that camouflaged with the dark night. He was crouching over a roman candle. Lily wondered where they got all these from.

Sirius grabbed two shot glasses that was beside him and poured what looked like tequila but smelled like vodka into them. He handed one to Lily.

"Tonight we celebrate!" he declared pompously. Sirius was more suited for theatre than mechanics. He downed the liquor in one go. Lily set hers down gingerly so Sirius wouldn't notice.

"Er-Sirius as great as that is, do you think you could maybe celebrate some other time, like, oh I don't know, NOT AT THREE IN THE BLOODY MORNING!"

"Oi, Prongs!" Sirius cupped his hands against his mouth and yelled. What kind of name was Prongs?

The lanky boy trudged to Sirius, making faces at him as he hiccupped.

Sirius pulled him into a hug and burst into tears. "I missed you, mate," he wailed. "Never go to the States again."

Lily was flabbergasted. It was 3 a.m. and she was watching Sirius Black crying and hugging another boy who was hiccupping. There was something you don't see every day.

The boy, 'Prongs' apparently, saw Lily over Sirius' shaking shoulders. He pushed up the glasses which had slid down his nose and untangled himself their embrace to smirk at her, making him go cross-eyed and lose his balance.

"Padfoot, there's a very fit bird starin' at us. D'you thin' she'd marry me if I kissed her bunny slippers?" he slurred. Obviously he was sloshed. Obviously they were _all_ sloshed.

Lily's eyes narrowed. "Flattered but not interested," she bit out.

There was a retching sound from across the lawn. The pudgy boy who had been playing with the sparklers with Remus, was bent over and Remus shouted, "Uh-oh, Petey go pukey." And then he laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world.

Sirius who was the most sober (which was saying something because he had a reputation of drinking away his sorrows. . . and his joy. . . and his anger. . . and his hunger which were basically the only feelings he ever felt) decided to become the responsible one.

"Alright lads, that enough. We're disturbing Evans here. Let's take this party inside. FALL IN, MEN!" he ordered. All the boys formed a line and marched into house.

"Thank you," she said exasperatedly. Even though she didn't figure out what the boys were doing in the Thomson's house, she was willing to let that slide for some sleep.

Lily returned home exhausted. It was 3:30 a.m. She crashed on the couch, too tired to haul herself into bed. She would solve that mystery tomorrow after her all-important exam. (In reality, it was just a tiny test that accounted for a measly ten percent of their grades.)

* * *

The next day, Lily woke up, cursing. She was late. She quickly ran through her morning hygiene routine. She wriggled into her favourite jeans for luck and donned a yellow jumper that made her look like the sunrise. She didn't pay special attention to how she looked that morning, just making sure that people wouldn't run in the opposite direction when they saw her.

She was halfway out the door, stuffing burnt toast into her mouth when her phone buzzed in her back pocket. Balancing her car keys, notes and toast all in one hand, she fished out her phone. A reminder appeared on her screen – 'LAB COAT, YOU DUNDERHEAD!' Cursing for what was the fiftieth time that day, she made a mad dash for her room, dug out her lab coat from the bottom of her closet, shrugged it on her shoulder and ran out for the second time that day.

She got into to her yellow Bug and drove like a madwoman, honking more than is considered polite.

She reached in the nick of time to the Medical lab. All the other students had just entered the lab.

"Miss Evans , you're late," sang Professor Slughorn with a teasing smile reserved only for his favourite student.

"I was studying, Professor," Lily replied with an angelic smile. "Wouldn't want to disappoint my favourite professor, would I?"

"Cheeky, Miss Evans," Slughorn laughed heartily. Lily slipped into her place.

Slughorn wrote one single question on the board and the exam commenced. Lily sighed on relief because he gave an easy test that Lily could do in her sleep. Which was a coincidence because Lily was dead on her feet.

Within half the allotted time, Lily had finished and was rolling her pencil back and forth on the counter top. She observed how her classmates were doing. Some were struggling; others seemed to be doing okay but the only other person who had finished was Severus Snape. Lily turned her head away from him, not wanting to acknowledge him. (To say that they weren't on good terms was a gross understatement.)

Instead she focused on the boy sitting in front of her. How odd, she recognised that mop of hair . . . oh, he was the boy from last night, the victorious warrior. And what was he doing?! He was going to get them all killed.

"You seem to have a knack for setting things on fire," she whispered to him. Slughorn wasn't paying any attention. He was busily tapping away on his phone, probably arranging another tea party with the Prime Minister and the Queen. A whole group in the back took advantage of this and was copying off each other marvellously.

"Sorry?" He looked adorable with his face scrunched in confusion, his hair ruffled and a pen tucked in his ear which made his glasses lie askew on his face. Lily could admit that much.

"You'll blow up the whole place," she indicated the test tube on the burner. He looked sheepish and offered her grin. Lily returned a tight-lipped smile.

"I had a long night."

"I know, _Prongs_."

He was surprised. He opened his mouth to question her but she stopped him.

"Finish your analysis."

An hour later, Slughorn told them to move out of the lab. As Lily passed him, he smiled and she winked back. Severus bumped into his shoulder roughly.

"Sorry," he grumbled. But he didn't move. They both just stood there awkwardly looking at their feet.

"So how was the exam?" Lily had hated the awkward silence but she hated him engaging in conversation even more. Lily was too tired to yell at him and she didn't want to start a fight.

"It was easy," Lily said refusing to look at his face.

"Of course, what with Slughorn making gaga eyes at you, it would definitely be easy." It was snarky comments like this that ended their friendship.

She glared at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I-uh," he stammered. Lily began to walk away from him.

"Forget it, Severus."

"No, Lily. Wait-I"

"Leave me alone, Severus."

"But-Lily"

"The lady said to leave her alone, _Snivellus_."

"Who are you?" Severus spat.

"I'm James."

"Who asked you?"

James, whose name Lily just learned, sent him an incredulous look. "Are you serious?"

"I'm leaving and if you follow me, Severus, I swear to God. . ." She turned away from the two who were staring each other down.

James turned to follow her.

"Where are you going?" Severus asked James.

"My name's not Severus," he said over his shoulder, not moving his eyes from the redhead speed-walking away.

James jogged to catch up with Lily.

"Thank you," he huffed as he caught his breath. She raised her eyebrows quizzically. "For the tip in the lab," he explained. She nodded. "I'm almost afraid to ask how you know but in my drunken stupor I remember hitting on a redhead."

Lily almost smiled. "You wanted to kiss my bunny slippers."

James grimaced. "Clearly I can't hold my alcohol."

"Clearly," Lily said dryly. "By the way, what are you doing in Mrs. Thomson's house?" She settled her hands on her hips and turned to face him. With the air of the father trying to get little Johnny admit that he was eating sugar, she asked, "Are you squatters?"

"What? No!" He was quick to explain himself. "We bought the place, it's ours. We have the deeds and everything. I can show you if you like. If you give me your number, I could WhatsApp you the pictures of the deeds and maybe even an address for dinner tonight." He winked.

"Are you - are you _hitting_ on me?"

"I couldn't help myself." He fisted his hair. An apologetic yet smug smirk played on his thin lips.

"Unbelievable," she muttered to herself as she stormed away from him.

"I'm sorry?" he shouted as if asking whether it's the right thing to say.

* * *

After a quick stop at the library (She wanted to return a book that had been lying in her car for ages) and a hello to Madam Pince, Lily headed back home. She had no other classes except English and she wasn't in any shape to learn about the suicidal tendencies of poets who were depressed that their work wasn't getting any recognition. Besides she could always get the notes from Remus; Dorcas' notes were doodles and nifty comics. As entertaining as they were to read, it wasn't going to help her.

"Dorcas, I'm home!" she called from the front door. She was greeted by silence. She made her way over to the kitchen to make herself a sandwich for lunch. On the counter there was a plate of pancakes and blueberries and underneath there was a note from Dorcas.

' _I got your text, you traitor. How dare you leave me alone in class? Anywho I came back to grab some books but I was hungry (all Marlene had was cornflakes. Bleh.) so I made some pancakes. And because I'm such a kind and generous human being I'm leaving you some. Bon Appétit!_ – _Love, The Dork_ '

Who needs a sandwich when you can have pancakes? She dug in, her tastebuds tingled feeling more satisfied than in ages. Dorcas made the best pancakes in the world, even better than her Dad.

She settled in front of the television. There was nothing interesting on telly, just some soaps and a rerun of _Deal or No Deal_. She stretched her feet on the coffee table and balanced the plate of pancakes on her stomach as she yelled at Mr. Rupert Toiner for not taking the Banker's deal.

It was when Dorcas came home, making a racket at five in the evening that Lily realized she had fallen asleep in front of the telly.

"Lily!" And then there was a crash and a scream.

"Dorcas!" Lily jumped from the couch, resulting in another crash. The plate had fallen from her stomach and onto the carpeted floor. She rushed over to the hallway where the scream came from.

She found Dorcas under a pile of books, papers and coats. The coat stand had rolled over to the side.

"You know, I really think we should move the coat stand. I seem to trip on it every single time I come in through the door." She moved some of the books and papers to the side. "Help me up, will you?"

Lily extended her hand out to Dorcas. "Nobody else has this problem. It's just you."

"Only you and I live here."

"Exactly. I don't have this problem."

"Maybe you're right. Maybe the coat stand just likes redheads better. Him and the rest of the world."

"So the coat stands a he now?"

Dorcas gathered her books from the floor and straightened her plaid skirt. "I don't know; I didn't examine him or anything. That is your job, Dr. Lily."

"Thanks, but I don't think the syllabus covers sex determination of inanimate objects," Lily replied dryly.

"I'll take it up with the board of directors."

Dorcas went up stairs to her room to deposit her books. Lily set the coat stand upright and hung all the coats and scarves on it.

After Lily had cleaned the mess, she found Dorcas sitting on the sofa and changing the channel to catch up with news on BBC. Dorcas wanted to be a journalist and she read the newspaper religiously every day.

Lily settled in the loveseat and asked, "So what happened in class today?"

"It was totally awesome. Benjy Fenwick had his pet lizard in his pocket during class. It got out and crawled on Bella-bitch's desk and she screamed and made a scene. It was total chaos." She laughed.

"Damn it. I always miss the good stuff. Last time I missed the dance battle in the canteen."

"Oh yeah. That was a good day. Even Dumbledore joined in on that. He dragged along McGonagall too."

The girls laughed imagining the old man dancing a waltz with McGonagall as she continued to shout 'But Albus, I don't want to dance.'

"And what was today's lecture about?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "I sort of zoned out. I think it was about Sylvia Plath."

"Should I bother to ask you for the notes?"

"Nah, though there is a lovely comic on lizards."

"Hm. . . I'll ask Remus for the notes," Lily said. "By the way, did you know the Thomsons moved?"

"Mhm. They came around on Saturday to inform us. You had a shift at the bookstore."

"Shame. I liked Mrs. Thomson's biscuits."

"Not like we ever tasted them. We've only smelt the aroma."

"True. They always kept to themselves. I think the only time I've properly spoken to them was when I moved in."

"They were more social before their children got married. Mum and Dad always went round to theirs for dinner once a month."

The house Lily and Dorcas lived in belonged to Dorcas' parents. That's why they could afford to stay in a house and not a flat like the rest of the student body. Dorcas' parents had moved to Salisbury to get away from the city. Dorcas and Lily only had to foot the various bills and chip in for groceries.

"Well, you'll never guess who moved in."

"Benedict Cumberbatch?"

"What?"

"A girl can dream."

"No. It's Remus, Sirius and two of their friends."

"What?!"

"That's what I said."

"But how can they afford it?'

"Hello? Sirius – tall, rich and handsome. Does that ring a bell?"

Dorcas groaned. "We'll never know peace."

"Do you know how I met them? They were bursting firecrackers at _three in the morning_."

"Bloody atrocious."

"So wanna go meet them?"

Dorcas was up even before she could finish her question. "Let's go."

* * *

The two girls stood on the porch, waiting politely for someone to answer the doorbell.

"Dried plants." Dorcas pointed out.

"Remind me never to let them housesit," Lily whispered back.

The sound of the door being unbolted put an end to their conversation. Sirius Black stuck his head out.

"Evans! Meadowes!" Sirius grinned and opened the door further. "What are you ladies doing here?"

"We're here to inform you that we have fallen victim to your charms and were wondering whether you'd indulge us in a wild night of passion."

"Really?" Sirius looked hopefully but his mouth tilted in amusement. Lily elbowed Dorcas not so lightly.

"No," Dorcas replied.

Lily grinned back at Sirius. "We're your new neighbours."

"No way."

"Yup," Lily confirmed. "That's why I spoiled your little soiree last night."

"Oh yes. Party pooper," Sirius accused.

"I actually wanted to see Remus. Is he around?" Lily asked. She still wanted to get his notes.

"The swot's studying. Come in."

"Remus!"Sirius hollered. He led them to the living room. On the sofa, the two other boys were sprawled out watching the day before's football match.

"Chelsea won," Lily said.

"What? No!" yelled James.

"Oh cheese and crackers," the small blonde boy said.

Sirius whooped. Sirius pranced around, singing, "I won. I won. I won. I won."

"Sod off," the bespectacled boy said sullenly.

"Actually, Chelsea won," Dorcas cut in amidst Sirius' chanting.

"Chelsea won, I won. Tomato, tomato." Sirius said. "I'll go get Remus. He owes me twenty quid now." And he left.

"We had a bet," the blonde boy lamented.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Dorcas asked.

The boy stood up and extended his hand, "Peter Pettigrew."

Dorcas shook his hand, "Dorcas Meadowes."

Peter extended his hand to Lily. Lily took his hand. "I'm Lily Evans."

Peter pointed to James, who was watching the match intently hoping that Lily was lying. "That brute's James Potter."

"Oi!" the boy cried indignantly.

"I know," Lily said. "We've met."

"You have?" This time it was Remus who spoke up.

"Remember, Moony. We were sloshed. Evans was there."

Remus grimaced. "About that. . . Lily, I apologise for our less than modest behavior."

"I would have paid good money to see that," Dorcas interjected.

Sirius agreed, "I know, right?"

"I forgive you, Remus. It's him I don't like." Lily gestured to James.

"Again, oi!" James protested.

Remus crossed his arms. He wore a firm expression. "What did he do?"

"Yeah, what did I do?" James was now standing, completing the little circle they seemed to have formed.

"Hitting on me when you're drunk is one thing. Hitting on me when you're sober is inexcusable."

"James," Remus reprimanded. Peter and Sirius sniggered. Dorcas patted his arm in a 'It's nice to have known you' manner.

James sighed. "Look, I'm sorry. I know I didn't make a good first impression. It's just that . . . well -" His hands lifted to ruffle his raven black hair. "You're really pretty." He finished sheepishly.

Lily blushed. Dorcas coughed.

Sirius came to his defense, "It's true. He never could handle beauty."

"Remember when we showed him the Canadian Prime Minister? He _swooned_." Peter giggled.

"It's a wonder he can control himself around me," Sirius said.

"It's a wonder people find you attractive," James retorted. His ears tinged pink and he looked like he would give a million pounds for the floor to open up and swallow him.

"Hey! I'll have you know-" Sirius began.

Lily said over Sirius' loud voice, "Remus, I actually came here to ask whether I could borrow your English lecture notes."

"Of course," Remus led Lily upstairs.

Dorcas told the others, "Well, I'm going to go. Can't miss the six o' clock news."

Nobody paid any attention. The three boys were arguing about Sirius' looks.

* * *

Soon the four boys next door became a constant in Lily's life. They were wildly entertaining; they always had an interesting story to tell. Peter made the best desserts on this side of London. He also had a knack on always picking the losing side of a bet, the trick was to pick the exact opposite of what Peter chose. Remus was the best person to study with and always had a fascinating opinion. He was a great person to watch _What Not to Wear_ with. Sirius was the person to go to when one was feeling particularly adventurous. He would take you around on his motorbike to places of questionable reputation but damn, they made the best juicy buns. And James . . . well, Lily had no idea how to explain how he fit into her life. The day she met him, they had got off to an awkward start. The next morning he had shown up on her front steps with two cups of tea. And he had just fit.

* * *

Lily was lounging in her pyjama bottoms and a faded green t-shirt while watching the morning cartoons over a bowl of Cornflakes and Nutella when the doorbell rang. Lily grumbled at the interruption and trudged to open the door.

There stood James Potter, in baggy shorts and a football jersey, holding up two mugs and smiling hesitantly at her.

"Hi."

"Hi," Lily lifted her eyebrows at him.

"You wouldn't happen to have some sugar, would you? You see, I woke up and nobody was there so I made myself some tea because we live in England. As I turned to the sugar pot, I found it empty. Like seriously, an ant would have been offended. Peter probably used it all up for the banana muffins he made yesterday. Anyway, I can't drink tea without sugar; I would rather eat toe jam. Then I remembered there were friendly neighbours around here and isn't that what they did in the olden days? Borrow a cup of sugar? Except you don't really like me, so it seemed wrong of me ask for some sugar. So I brought a cup of tea for you too as a peace offering, provided you feel generous enough to give a git a chance and some sugar. What I'm asking is do you want to have some tea and let me make up for my prattish behavior? "

He had spoken very fast and looked winded by his spontaneous speech. Lily couldn't help but smile at his endearing ramble.

She moved aside to invite him in. "I could never say no to some tea." He stepped in, following Lily down the hall.

"Tom and Jerry?" he asked nodding at the TV set.

Lily shrugged, "Childhood favourite."

"Mine too." He seemed to have no qualms about making himself comfortable in her home. He flopped on the brown worn sofa. The tea sloshed in the mugs and some spilled on his jersey.

"Bugger," he cursed as the hot liquid dribbled down his chest. 'His very fit chest,' Lily noticed.

Lily took the cups from his hands and placed it on the coffee table. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it's just now that now I'll have to wash this. It was my last clean thing to wear."

Lily laughed. "I'll go get the sugar." She carried the two cups into the kitchen. "How much sugar do you take?" she called.

"Two spoons," he called back.

Lily stirred the sugar in the tea and took it back to the living room. She sat next to him, handing him the tea wordlessly.

He mumbled a 'Thanks'. They took a sip together.

"You make good tea."

James beamed. "Cheers, Evans."

They slipped into a comfortable silence, the only noise being the sounds of Tom chasing Jerry around only to fall on his face.

"So who's your favorite- Tom or Jerry?" It was James who broke the silence.

"Jerry. He's smart and funny and cute."

"That's cute. How long have you two been dating?"

"Shuddup," she muttered and lightly punched him.

"Ow," he complained. "Is this what Jerry faces? An abusive relationship?"

He was treated to another punch but it couldn't have hurt because he was laughing and Lily was smiling.

"Who's yours?"

"Mine? Oh no, I'm single." He said. He leaned towards her and wiggled his bushy eyebrows, "Single and ready to mingle."

It was a pathetic joke but in spite of that Lily laughed. "I was talking about Tom and Jerry, you doof."

"Tom's owner."

"The owner?"

"Mhm. She's far too underappreciated. And she's got great legs. Makes you wonder what the rest of her looks like."

Lily laughed again. "Charming."

" I've been told that I'm a very charming bloke-"

"By your mum?" Lily interrupted.

"Nah, she thinks I'm a nuisance and rues the day I was conceived."

"I understand her pain." Lily put her hand to her heart in mock empathy.

"You, Lily Evans, are being a bloody nuisance."

"A matter I take pride in."

"Pish posh, you're a Miss Goody Two Shoes. Remus told me as much."

Lily raised her eyebrows at that. "Been gossiping about me?"

James looked flustered. He began examining the chipped tea cup he was holding as though he were seeing it for the first time.

"I might have pestered him into telling me everything he knew about you," he admitted in a small voice, looking anywhere but her. "I tried asking Sirius but he just took the mickey out of me."

On any other occasion Lily would have been cross about anyone gossiping about her behind her back but it was Remus. A softer softie had never roamed the earth.

"And what did you learn about me?"

"You're name's Lily Evans. You're studying medicine, just like me. But you're also taking English Lit. Why? Medicine is hard enough as it is."

"I thought it would look good on my job application."

"Yeah, because that's what's going to set you apart; you know English unlike the other ninety percent of people living in England," James remarked sarcastically.

"I know that _now_." Lily said defensively. "It's interesting though."

"Tell me, do you sleep at night?"

"I do, when the local hoodlums aren't bursting firecrackers at three in the morning," she said pointedly.

"Touché."

"How do _you_ sleep at night, knowing you're responsible for a lady's sleepless night?"

"Meh, it's nothing new. Many a ladies have spent their nights tossing and turning in bed, thinking of me. You'll soon find yourself in the same position. It'll probably go on my tombstone – 'James Potter, the man of your dreams.'"

"No, it'll probably be 'James Potter, the man of your nightmares.'"

"You got that right, Lily." Sirius burst into the living room, brandishing a buzzing smartphone. "James, this is the fourth time your Mum's calling. I answered once but I think she wants to talk to her son."

James excused himself to answer the phone.

"You should lock your door, Lily. It's not safe," said Sirius.

"You're right," replied Lily. "You might come in again."

"Hey!"

* * *

After living next door to the boys, Lily realised she liked having the boys around. She couldn't even imagine her life without them. What did she even do for fun before them?

There was only one problem.

James Potter.

He was a goofy dork. He sat with her in class causing Severus to glare at her like she had just gifted him a bottle of shampoo for Christmas. He'd come over every Saturday morning to watch cartoons and eat Cornflakes _without_ sugar. He cheated at Monopoly during Game Night and claimed that it was in the rule book. He'd stolen her knickers, which was a dare, but he gave them back in front of Slughorn, which was _not_ part of the dare.

And yet Lily Evans found herself fancying James Potter.

When she had told Dorcas this, Dorcas had said that she didn't see any problem in it and called Lily a lunatic. She even offered to ask out James on Lily's behalf.

But Dorcas just didn't get it. What if she asked him out and he rejected her? What if she asked him out only to find that he had been secretly married the whole time? Or worse, what if she asked him out, they date and then they _break up_?

Now, that would just create a whole other dimensions of problems that she did not need. She saw James countless times in a day. Attending class would become awkward. She wouldn't be able to talk to the boys because you are not supposed to talk to the ex's mates. Her Saturday mornings would become dull without his commentary. She'd never taste his perfect cup of tea. She'd never be sent pictures of cute animals. She'd never get any more Pun of the Day text messages. It just wasn't worth all that trouble.

Bah, who needs love anyway? (Lily Evans did.)

And so she convinced herself that she had gotten over him. Too bad the others could see right through her.

They were all gathered around the telly in the girls' house, scarfing down huge slices of chocolate cake and celebrating Peter's win in the _'Three tiers for Cake'_ competition.

"I'm so full I will pop," Sirius declared. A chorus of agreement followed. They had eaten the three tiers chocolate cake that had won Peter the first prize.

"I nominate Lily to put away the dishes," said Dorcas. "All in favour say 'Aye'."

Four 'Aye's punctuated by one particularly loud 'Nay' rang through the rather large living room.

"Majority wins," Dorcas chirped cheerily.

"Why me?" Lily whined.

"Because I did the dishes yesterday."

"Why not the boys?"

"Because they're our guests."

"What she said," reiterated Remus.

"They are over here so much that they practically live here," Lily countered.

"That's right," Sirius agreed. "Prongs, go help the lovely Ms. Lily and represent us men."

"What?" shouted an enraged James.

"You're still my slave," Peter announced. Dorcas and Lily stared at him, aghast.

"I didn't know you batted for that team, Potter," Dorcas teased.

"For the last time, Peter, how was I supposed to know that your goldfish was just sleeping and not dead?" whinged James huffily

"So you just flushed him down the toilet? Didn't even give me a chance to say goodbye?"

"That settles it," Dorcas said. "Go do the dishes with Lily."

"No way!" Lily exclaimed. She had started collecting the plates and spoons. "I don't want the murderer."

"It's the murderer or nothing, Lily," said Remus.

"Take it or leave it, Evans," Sirius added.

"Fine," Lily decided. "I'll take it."

"I'm not going," James sat in the sofa arms crossed, face scrunched like a petulant child.

"If you don't go, James, I'll tell Lily why we call you Prongs," Sirius threatened.

James shot up and began gathering all the plates along with Lily who was moving at the pace of a snail. He ushered her into the kitchen.

Lily could just make out Dorcas asking "Why?" and Sirius replying, "All I'm telling you is tons of whiskey and completely starkers except for dog antlers."

Lily laughed and James groaned. Silently they began to do the dishes. James washed and Lily dried. In five minutes they were almost done when they heard the sound of the door closing and the latch falling in place.

Lily and James turned to each other, wide eyed.

"Did they just-" Lily began, incredulity colouring her tone.

"Lock us in?" James jiggled the door knob. "Yeah, they sure did."

"The annoying berks," Lily muttered. "Guys, this isn't funny." Lily shouted through the white wooden door.

There was shuffling and whispering on the other side of the door.

"Damn right, it isn't funny," Sirius replied. "I'm suffocating in the sexual tension."

The air in the kitchen suddenly became hot. Lily felt clammy, like she was going to deliver a speech in front of a thousand people.

"We're not letting you out till you erm- _resolve your issues_ ," Dorcas piped in.

"Remus would like to add that he is not part of said hare-brained scheme and beg you not to end his life." Remus sounded nervous.

"Peter agrees with Remus and would like to give up Sirius and Dorcas as sacrifice." Then there was the sound of feet erratically hitting the carpeted floor and Sirius yelling, "Cowards!"

They could hear Dorcas mumbling, "That's right; leave it to the woman to do the work." Then she spoke up more clearly, "Okay you two, have fun but not too much fun. Remember we cook food in there."

And then there were two.

Lily and James turned to each other and smiled nervously, though in their present state of mind it came across as a grimace.

"At least they left us food," James joked.

Lily laughed a short, surprised laugh. And before she knew the words were out of her mouth.

"James, do you want go out with me?"

At first, James' face lit up. Lily felt hopeful. Then James' face fell. And so did Lily's spirits.

"Lily," he began and smiled sadly. "You don't have to ask me out to get out of here. They'll let us out eventually."

Lily laughed. "You're so daft. I _want_ to go out with you."

"Really?"

"Really."

James moved away from Lily to the small kitchen table. He moved the chairs to opposite sides and took out ice cream from the freezer and set it on the table.

"Er, James. What are you doing?"

"You wanted a date."

* * *

The next morning, Sirius called through the door, "Are you decent?"

"Yeah," James shouted back. "We just got dressed."

Lily smacked James. "We did not," she claimed indignantly.

Sirius gasped loudly. "You mean you're- you're . . . _naked_?"

There was a scuffle and an 'Ow.' The door unlocked. James and Lily emerged out holding hands.

"Oh good," said Dorcas. "My plan worked."

* * *

A/N: So. . . I shared this. How about sharing your thoughts in the form of a review? You know, an eye for an eye, tit for tat and the likes. REVIEW PLEASE.


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